


If on a winter's night, your brother goes out for beer

by ExpatGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Gen, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Sam and Cas Talk About Dean, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl
Summary: Dean's on a beer run. There's only one bed.What will happen between Sam and Cas?They'll platonically share a bed and be supportive of each other's feelings, is what'll happen.





	If on a winter's night, your brother goes out for beer

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday. Have a present.
> 
> ETA I was advised to tag this as a coda. I'm not sure if it fully counts but I've done it anyway. ;)

“Sam.”

Cas' voice was low, insistent, and coming from somewhere near the foot of the bed. There was an edge of vexation to it, as though he'd been saying Sam's name for a while.

“Mm.” Sam rolled over, begrudgingly, but didn't turn on the light.

“It's Tuesday.”

“...yeah?” Sam said (rather, approximated the sound).

“Dean went on a beer run on Monday.”

The bedside lamp clicked on. Not Sam's doing. He squinted into his pillow, then over his shoulder. Cas still stood at the foot of the bed, meaning he'd pulled that trick with his Grace. Either showing off or testing himself after their run-in with that warlock. Either way, it was way too bright in here now.

“Yeah.”

“It doesn't take an entire day to get beer.”

“Cas. It's—uh.” The clock swam into view. “Three eighteen in the morning. And it sounds like it's still storming out there. He probably had to stop in Duluth for a few hours to wait for it to blow over. Which I warned him about, but it's not like he ever listens to me.” Still, he reached for his phone even as he spoke.

“Nor me,” Cas agreed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“No texts, no missed calls.” Sam's frown melted from the early-morning variety to the vaguely-worried variety.

“No signal?”

“Hmm,” Sam said, making himself sit up. “Probably.”

“Should I go look for him?”

Sam shook his head and flexed his bare toes against the thin pile of the motel carpet. At some point in the mid eighties, the pattern might have been discernible. He shivered against the cold that had managed to mouse its way in under the door. The heater had been running for hours, but it clearly wasn't up to the task.

“He sent any prayers your way?”

“No.” Cas paused, tipping his head to the side and staring into the middle distance, listening. “Nothing since ten p.m., when he was singing something about a, a total eclipse of the heart.” He looked at Sam.”Which makes no sense, either astronomically or physiologically, by the way.” Another pause. “Though I suppose it could be a metaphor. He seemed very invested in the idea.”

Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Then he's probably fine.”

“Alright.” Cas suddenly looked abashed. And...tired. “Sorry, Sam.” He moved, as though he meant to stand up, but Sam put a hand on his arm, and he went still.

“Hey, it's okay.” He scrutinized Cas' face in the yellowish lamplight. “I get it. You're worried about him. If he's not back in a couple of hours, we'll go look for him. And why don't I send him...uh. You send him a text.”

Cas did so without further prompting—Sam caught sight of at least three snowflake emojis and two worried faces—and then slumped down a little.

“You're still feeling rough, huh?”

“The curse was...potent,” Cas conceded. “But I think the worst of it'll be gone by nightfall.” He exhaled heavily but made no move to stand again. “Sorry for getting us stuck here another night. I know this is, uh.” He gestured around the room. “Hardly ideal.”

“No, Cas. Dean was right. Besides, we all got dinged up pretty good, so a breather was probably a good idea.”

“I suppose.”

“You look like you're dragging a little.”

“Oh, I...” Cas turned his head in a poorly-disguised yawn. “I'm fine. The chair is very comfortable. Thank you, Sam.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know that look,” Cas said, narrowing his eyes. “You give Dean that look when he uses your leave-in conditioner and then denies it.”

“It's _expensive._ And he could just _ask_.” He waved his burgeoning annoyance away. It was too early. “Listen, if Dean's not back by six, we'll go look for him. For now, we both need sleep.” He pulled the covers back and slid over to the opposite side of the bed.

“I thought you and Dean were sharing,” Cas said, even as he shrugged his coat from his shoulders.

“Dean's not here,” Sam said, punching the pillow. “Which is why we're having this conversation.”

Behind him, as he put his head down, he heard a subdued chuckle, and then the bed dipped and the chill at his back lessened considerably.

The light clicked off. By hand this time, Sam assumed.

There was a stretch of almost-silence, punctuated by the sound of the wind through the telephone wires and the buzz of the minifridge in the corner. Cas felt reassuringly solid and quiet next to him. Which was good, because there was no telling what new and exciting ways Dean would go off the rails this time if something happened to Cas.

Plus, it was nice. It made Sam weirdly nostalgic, having someone much older and stronger settled next to him in bed. Of course, these days, he could go from asleep to combat-ready in under five seconds, but it was comforting to feel—however fleetingly—that he didn't have to.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yeah?”

“I...know I said it before, but it—it really is good to have you back.”

Cas' hand landed on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. I'm glad to be here.”

Another silence fell, and Sam felt himself grow heavier with sleep.

“Sam.”

He jolted awake. “Wha-”

“I got a prayer. Kind of.”

Sam turned to face him. “Kind of?”

“He's, ah, he's stuck in a Waffle Hut off of Interstate 35.” He cleared his throat. “Apparently, he's...very close to ripping a jukebox off the wall. Something about...Tom Jones.”

Sam had to smother a laugh in his pillow. “Oh shit.” He looked over his shoulder at Cas' profile. Though it was lightless, Sam could practically see the confused cant of his brow. “Well, hey,” he yawned, still laughing, “at least we know he's okay. Physically.”

“Mm. True.”

“We'll go rescue him in the morning. Let's get a little more sleep.”

“Alright.” Cas turned towards him and the room grew quiet again. But something thrummed in the back of Sam's mind as he thought of Cas rushing out into a Minnesota blizzard for Dean, as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do. The thought grew taut, and then snapped.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Sam.”

“You think you'll...ever marry him?”

Cas immediately went silent. Even his breathing halted, and Sam's throat clicked shut, his tongue stopped up with regret.

“Angels don't marry,” Cas said at last. “That's, uh...the law's pretty clear on that point. And even if that weren't true, we're not—what's the phrase—the _marrying kind_. Either of us.”

Sam swallowed uncomfortably. “Yeah, I...”

“But, then,” Cas continued, sounding sleepy. “We've also never been very good at doing what we're supposed to do, Dean and me.”

Another laugh loosened itself from Sam's chest, this one a little damp around the edges. “That's for damn sure.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Cas said, patting Sam's back. “Dean knows that. I hope you know that, too.” His words were slurred, as though he was struggling to stay awake.

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling into the sound of the wind. It had begun to die away, just a little.

As he drifted off, two thoughts arose. One was nebulous and soft, the feeling he got when he dropped, dreamless, into sleep in the passenger's seat along some anonymous country highway. The other, much clearer, involved stealing Dean's phone and changing the ringtone to “What's New Pussycat”.

The last thing he heard was Cas laughing in the dark and a murmured _goodnight._

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've basically bid adieu to SPN, but, y'all, I _cannot_ stress how much I love Sam and Cas being friends and supportive brothers-in-law. Also, I love cuddling. So happy birthday to me.


End file.
